The Director Needs One (Pt 3 of Hawkeye and the Director)
by Two Ladies of Quality
Summary: When Clint and Phil are interrupted on a rare quiet night, Clint discovers Phil has been upgrading his Captain America collection


Kansas City wasn't considered one of the most romantic cities of the nation, though it did have its charms. Chief among them for Clint Barton, though, were its proximity to Phil's new secret base and to the farm in Iowa where his cousin was raising her family. When he and Phil wanted to have an evening in a nice restaurant without making extensive plans, they could both find reasons to be in Kansas City.

A nice quiet evening of garlicky steaks and buttery mashed potatoes and good beer, then a walk back to their respective vehicles for trips back to where they needed to be. Not really time for much else, but just being able to sit across from each other and talk made up for a lot.

But then there was the man oh so casually stepping out from between two parked vans, with a predictable swagger and sneer.

"Dammit," Phil and Clint sighed together, and they stepped away from each other.

The man pulled a gun from his pocket. "Wallets, phones, and jewelry, you-"

"If the next words out of your mouth are some sort of gay insult," Clint snarled, "not even Tony Stark's dentist will be able to save your teeth."

Phil snickered very faintly.

Guy with the gun snarled in return and stepped forward. Clint grinned and moved to meet him. The sound of another footstep behind him and Phil muttering "Shit" nearly distracted him, but Moron suddenly decided his pistol was a bludgeoning weapon and swung for him. Three seconds and four quick moves put Moron on the ground, missing only one tooth.

Clint noticed an odd blue glow behind him and turned. "Oh. My. God."

In his right hand, Phil held the gun that apparently came from the unconscious man at his feet. In-on his other hand was a shield. A round shield of a particular size, with concentric circles and an emblem in the middle, made of blue light projected from his cybernetic hand.

Phil looked up, saw him staring, flinched, then stood straight and lifted his chin. Clint could practically see a red, white, and blue uniform encasing those thrown back shoulders.

Knowing his chances of ever getting laid again were at stake, Clint chose his words carefully. "Someone on the Internet was claiming to be the Ultimate Cap Fanboy, and you couldn't let it stand?"

Phil studied him carefully, obviously searching for signs that teasing was turning into mocking. "I figured SHIELD should be more than just an awkward acronym."

Clint walked forward and poked it. It was solid enough to make him regret the poke. "Can you throw it?" he couldn't help asking.

Phil's shoulders came down a little. "No," he said with regret. "It's only solid when it's connected to the projector in my hand. And eats power like Thor at a buffet."

Clint ran his hand along the top edge, feeling the very slight vibration. "Oh." He rested his fingers against the emblem in the middle, not a star, but the old SHIELD eagle. Phil flexed his hand, and the shield disappeared; Clint's fingers fell against the back of his hand.

"We should call this in," Phil said, gazing back at Clint.

"I bet some civic minded citizens will come along to pick up the trash," Clint replied. "I love you very much. Do you have to go back tonight?"

"I'm afraid so. But I brought a quinjet, so it's a fast trip."

Clint frowned. "You flew alone?"

Phil smirked. "I thought there might be a chance I could talk someone into hanging out on the jet with me for a while."

"I haven't made out in the backseat of somebody's car in decades."

"It was barely six years ago outside a particular gas station."

Clint grinned. "Oh, yeah. Come on, Captain SHIELD, maybe you can show me some of your other collectibles."

"There's this Hawkeye action figure I'm fond of, but I've taken it out of the package, so purists don't think it's quite as valuable."

He kissed Phil. "Toys are better when you play with them. Nerd."

"Nerd who loves you."

"Yay, me." 


End file.
